Stage Crew
by Oh Shiitake Mushrooms
Summary: A series of one-shots about Zac and Mariana becoming friends while they do stage crew for The Glass Menagerie.


Mariana walked into the auditorium through a door that led to the wings of the stage. She never really knew what the proper code of conduct was in here. The last couple of meetings had taken place in the basement of the school, for stage crew, at least, in an unused woodshop classroom. The dusty air and the noises of sewing machines and saws lent a sort of informal feeling that made Mariana feel at ease. She had never done any theatre before, but fixing costumes felt natural to her, like it wasn't an intimidating sort of newness. Plus, crew kids were all very easygoing. While there was definitely a mission that needed to be accomplished, there was never any need to vocalize its importance. The theater, however, inspired a sort of reverence. Maybe that was just Mariana's inexperience, but when she walked into this space for any reason other than an assembly, she felt strange. Like she needed to shut up and listen.

As she walked onstage, she took in the enormity of it. When she looked above her, she could see the stage lights that she had never thought to notice. On the stage itself were plenty of scuff marks and pieces of old tape, or remnants of the glue that sometimes stuck when you peeled it off. Nobody else had arrived yet. Mariana stood onstage for a moment and checked her phone. 2:45. Meetings usually started at 3:00. She looked out into the rows of seats and wondered if she should sit there or stay where she was. Today was not a normal day, in terms of rehearsal. Usually, actors and crew met separately. But today, the director wanted to talk to everybody at once.

Mariana sat down and pulled her knees to her chest. She had considered ditching and napping, but she didn't want to mess up the groove that she had settled into. At first, it had been hard, meeting three times a week for two hours, and working on costumes. But now, she found herself, like, _caring_. She had responsibilities. She was the reason why the actors wouldn't be naked during the show - or worse, in jeans. Still, she had gotten very little sleep in the past few days. Maybe she could learn how to sew with her eyes closed. Yeah, that was a good thought. She thought about this for a while, until she wasn't thinking of much at all.

She felt someone nudging her arm. Mariana twitched violently and looked up. "What?" She asked. "What time is it?" Had she fallen asleep? After a cursory glance of the seats in front of her, she confirmed that the rest of the crew and cast still had yet to show up, although Zac was sitting next to her. She opened her phone and looked at the time again. 3:19.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you. Well, I kind of did. I figured you wouldn't - I mean, if you _want_ to fall asleep sitting up onstage, that's cool, but I figured you'd want to be woken up." He was clearly startled by her reaction.

"Don't we start at 3?" Mariana asked, pulling a hair tie out of her purse. She struggled to put her hair in a ponytail without a brush and rolled her eyes at the world, basically. "It's almost 3:30. When is anybody going to get here?"

"The director usually doesn't show up till 4," Zac said, attempting some sort of smile. "It's different with crew because he's not, like, there. But people typically know not to come until 4 if he's leading. Sorry."

"It's fine," Mariana grumbled. It was not fine. She no longer felt like she was in a sacred space. She flopped down onto her back.

"Is everything okay?" Zac asked, firmly in a sitting position. He was pretty sure he knew the answer, though. Even when things were going wrong, Mariana was usually almost annoyingly chipper. On occasion, he had wondered what sort of thing could make her mad.

"I'm tired," She said, staring at the ceiling. "I've been tired for, like... for a million years or something."

_Well, that would do it._

"We should have started at 3. We could have been done by 5:30 and I could have caught the bus home, and then I would have slept until Sunday. It would have been the best weekend ever."

"Sorry?"

"The Best Weekend Ever, by Mariana Foster. Mariana finishes her English project, hands it in, goes to a play meeting that starts on time, goes home, sleeps. The end."

"That does sound like the best weekend ever."

Mariana closed her eyes again, which Zac did not think was ideal. He had learned that if you needed sleep, you either needed to take a ten-minute nap or get a full eight hours. Anything in between was going to fuck you up. He didn't know how long she had been sleeping before he found her, but he guessed it was in the in-between. He sighed and lay down next to her. After a moment of contemplation, he smacked her arm lightly with his hand.

"Hey. Mariana. Hey, Mariana. Mariana. Hey."

"Don't."

"I'm gonna teach you about lights."

"No."

"Look up. Just look up for a sec. If you don't look up I can't teach you about lights."

After a long, deep breath, Mariana's eyes opened, and she looked straight above her at the stage lights. "What." She said.

"You see that light?" Zac asked, pointing to the one immediately within her view. "That there is called the, ah... the David light. Years ago, they were doing _Paint Your Wagon_ here, and there was this kid named David, and the light fell on him. So they moved the show to the chorus room."

"You're lying," Mariana said, but she was smiling a little bit.

"No I'm not! They replaced the light with a light that wasn't a jumper, and then they named it after him. These are the kinds of things you have to know as a lighting designer. We have names for all the lights. It helps us keep track of them."

"What's that one called?" Mariana asked, pointing out into the auditorium.

"That one's not a stage light. It doesn't count."

"I'm going to name it Mariana."

"Go ahead."

"That's the Mariana light now." She was smiling a little bit more now. "What do you think about that, lighting designer?"

"I think that sleep deprivation is a fascinating thing." Zac said.

Mariana stayed quiet for a little bit. She stretched her legs out more. "Did David die?" She asked, finally.

"Legend says he still haunts these halls. Every year, his spirit begs Mr. Bowen to do _Paint Your Wagon_ again, and to do it right this time. But the guilt is too much."

"That's sad."

Zac thought he might never drink or smoke. Instead, he would just go a day without sleep. "I'm joking, though." He said after a while. "There's no David. I don't know what the light is called."

"It's still sad. Poor David."

"Poor David."


End file.
